


Like a Stone

by Vintage (KyberHearts)



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Asexual Character, Fluff, Jacob is canonly bisexual, M/M, Morning Cuddles, Multi, Thanks Ubisoft, gender neutral reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 16:36:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11901762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyberHearts/pseuds/Vintage
Summary: A rambling about your sleeping arrangements with two adoring Assassins.





	Like a Stone

**Author's Note:**

> I caved in and wrote some fluff asdflakjdfla;a
> 
> Work Title is from Audioslave's "Like a Stone"

You’re hardwired to always sleep on your side and curled up to a pillow or blanket. This, of course, makes it easy for you and your lovers’ sleeping arrangements.

Your personal preference? Squashed between the two Assassins, facing Arno on your right and nestling your head against his neck as Jacob spoons you, his fingers twisting your hair or clothes. There’s so something that felt so right, so reassuring, when you sleep with them. And then sometimes, Jacob, being Jacob, insists on being in the middle. So you cuddle with him as Arno sprawls all over the bed, arms and legs thrown over the younger man.

One morning, as you laze between the two and feeling on top of the world, you find yourself gingerly stroking Arno’s scar. His ginger brown eyes flutter and Arno brushes his soft lips to your palm, tickling you. He murmurs, “Mmm… that feels nice.”

“What does?” Jacob asks sleepily from behind you. His arms wrap tight around your waist and pull you a little closer to his warmth as morning light dances along the walls.

You turn over, a hand still on Arno’s cheek, and run a nail against Jacob’s eyebrow scar, then the one on his jaw. Jacob groans and nuzzles your wrist, careful not to roughly abrade your own keloids. Unlike their apparent pleasant reception to your touches, your keloid scars are always a little too sensitive, too painful for loving caresses.

“No more free-running for you,” Jacob tells you, his own lips against your fingers. His lips are so unlike Arno’s; they are chapped and desperate while Arno’s are gentle and thoughtful. And you're sure that when Jacob sneaks a kiss to Arno, both realize the differences in their kisses. “If you ever break any more bones-”

“ _ When _ I break another bone,” you correct him with a smirk. 

He rolls his eyes. “No. Not on my guard, at least. I don’t need Auditore berating me again.”

“You can free-run when I’m around,” Arno interjects sleepily. You twist your head to look at him. There’s a placid, dumb smile on his face. “As long as you blame Jacob when you fall.” You and Arno chuckle as Jacob protests, then decides to retaliate as he drags you in for a long kiss.

Your hand falls away from his scars and instead run through his unruly locks. Jacob always smells like smoke, whether it’s from cigarettes or exploring the industrialized London, and it’s just enough that you’re addicted. Even as you kiss him back, you sense another pair of hands and long fingers tenderly slipping to your hips, slotting against Jacob’s grip. Arno presses his mouth to your bare shoulder, and you offhandedly wonder, he smells like roses today.

“Alright, you idiots,” Arno murmurs affectionately. “I’m off. Being an Assassin and all that. I’ll be back before midnight.”

“Mmm,” Jacob places his forehead against yours, and traces along Arno’s knuckles. “Me too.”

You sigh. “And I’ll be here. Free-running without supervision.”

“ _ Perfect _ ,” Arno purrs and he slips away from the bed, just as Jacob groans and wordlessly begs you,  _ Be careful _ , with a coarse kiss.


End file.
